80 days...

Sorry ladies,

Much to your dismay, Corey will be officially removed from the market in 80 days. Yes, he has been taken for quite some time now, but the chain will be formally administered at that time, solidifying his "taken" status.

Feel free to swoon as he saunters by in his driving moccasins and sport coat. Go ahead, take one look at those pearly whites and faint. But so help me, if you lay a finger on one inch of that button down polo with the collar flipped up I will put the fear of Big Mama in you. Oooo child and a double snap!

That is all. Have a nice day.

a lovely image to remember him by

Common Ailments

I'm probably going to get in trouble for this, but I am just too amused by the conversations Corey and I have over his aches and pains to not share them. This one in particular:

"Might be heading to the doctor...my left knee is popping when I walk...really weird. I'm keeping an eye on it."

"You'll be fine" (this is me, the voice of reason)

"Oh no...it's more than that...it actually popped while I was walking."

"Just walk it out. You really will be fine." (me again, sympathy level 2)

"Might be ligament damage...or ACL."

"Um. No." (this was after a brief chuckle)

"Trust me."

Aw, my sweet old man.

I think after work I'll pick up a cane. He can keep it with his heating pad, special pillows, MRI results, and prescription arsenal.

But seriously folks, he did take me and my sister out for lunch on Saturday (where our waitress was an old girlfriend who apparently still has his gray Yankees sweatshirt).

He ended up with a stomach ache.

84 days...

Wait...just wait a second....

After this thing in September, does that mean I have to give up my hunky nightly news anchors?

Am I supposed to stop watching Good Morning America and its Sam Champion with his perfect blond side wave and witty remarks, and Chris Cuomo with his smooth voice and poignant, yet factual, reporting??

Surely, 20/20's John Stossel and Dateline's Keith Morrison are safe to drool over. You just can't ask me to forgo their thought-provoking investigative journalism and dreamy stares for reruns of Seinfeld and Everybody Loves Raymond!

And I might as well crawl into a deep dark hole with nothing to eat but the creepy, crawly creatures of the night if I can't have my weekly dose of Brian Williams and his awkward side smile.

Look, I'm not asking Corey to give up Without a Trace actress, Poppy Montgomery and her stringy blond hair (awww, did your show just get canceled??). Or Jeanine Whatever, the horse racing girl, and her fake...teeth.

So let me keep my charmingly pale anchormen and we'll call it even.

Wedding Nightmare #3

Oh. My. Gosh.

No more burritos before bed. No burritos or wedding related activities. These suckers are just getting way too weird and disturbing.

So, this time I'm getting married in a store/banquet hall/theater in the mall. (Corey doesn't make an entrance in this one) For some reason I'm just hangin' out on a bench watching people walk in. There are thousands of guests. At one point the best man runs off to get his wife out of the JCPenny. And all of my bridesmaids are under the age of 12.

The traumatic part comes when I go to put my dress on. First, it's a hideous satin, two-piece gown. Second, this is the first time I've tried it on since getting it back from the seamstress.

I put the whole thing on to find my seamstress added a neck pillow to the collar of my dress. (why do i have a collar, you ask? i will answer that question with a question: why am i getting married in a mall??) I'm talking about those foamy pillows you wear when you're trying to sleep on a plane, it was sewn into my dress.

Of course, I'm panicking at this point. I'm sobbing hysterically. Fortunately for dream Stacie, Aunt Cindy is there. (background on AC: she makes quilted vests with cross-stitched bunnies look gooooood) She tells me she'll just fold down the pillow. Then we notice my skirt is four sizes too big. Both in my dream and now I wonder, what exactly did I pay the seamstress to do?? This time my Aunt has no solution and my dream fades as I'm minutes from the ceremony, crying and shaking uncontrollably.















....a neck pillow??

A letter to my future husband

Dear Mssr. Corey,

Oh what a joy it will be waking up in the middle of the night to my ramblings of crackers, make believe animals, and other such nonsense while I drool all over myself.

How excited you must be to partake in soggy rice, over cooked eggs, and interesting new recipes using rarely paired ingredient combinations.

And I, equally, cannot wait to wake up to Sports Center, eat breakfast to the Weather Channel, relax to horse racing, eat dinner to ESPN and fall asleep to the game of the day.

I look forward to your nightly rants about the office, the losing team, the guy who cut you off in traffic, and the Starbucks employee who gave you a carmel-mochachino-latte instead of a carmel-macchiato-double foam.

You'll be glad to know I am only bringing 20 pairs of shoes, 30 purses, two closets full of clothes, and approximately 950 pounds of books.

I have also reduced my knick-knacks to only the most essential: paper mache flamingo, ceramic fish on a pedestal, jar of California shells, and 25 stuffed animals.

So I will see you at the altar in 87 days, and maybe we can get a coffee before then.

Love,

Beetle

87 days...

What better a way to calm those pre-wedding jitters and ease planning stress than a wedding dream where everything goes right?!

Last night I had the most magical wedding in my sleep. Although, it wasn't at the Hall of Springs, I had a hideous veil/headpiece, and Corey was small and frail and had greasy black hair...but it was magical nonetheless.

It was a relief after having a very disturbing I'm-totally-unprepared dream where Tom Petty was chasing me. Luckily, I don't remember the details.

88 days...

All work and no play makes Stacie cranky and irritable.

Weekend phone conversation:

"I'm throwing the ball for Oliver off the dock! He just jumps right off the end!!" him

"Sorry, I can't hear you, I'm auditioning our string quartet. Sounds like you're having a great time." me

"Yeah, we just had some hot dogs!" him

"What was that? Katie's 90lb Rottweiler/monster mix just grabbed the whole roasted chicken off the counter." me

"Oh. It's so peaceful and relaxing here...the boats passing by, the waves on the shore." him

"Hang on, I'm going to have to put you on speaker phone, I have to use both hands to do this cutting and pasting for the the seven presents I am working on." me

"That's ok, I'm going to bed now anyway." him

"Wow, 9:30. Ok, I'm just going to let the dog out, review tomorrow's Sunday school lesson, clean up my clay mess, and start a movie to keep me company while I work on my next project." me

Glad you had a wonderful, fun-filled time, dear.

91 days...

Happy Anniversary!!!....two days ago.

Ooops. And today is the anniversary of when I think we met. Every year on this exact date I call Corey to scold him for not remembering the anniversary of when we met, then I do the math and realize that our first date was actually June 17th, not the 19th.

So my apologies to Corey...kinda. You still forgot, ya know. At least I know how many years we've been together. Four.

92 days...

Corey looks out for me. He sticks up for me. And bless his heart, he texts me when I have made "serious spelling/grammar errors" so that I may avoid embarrassment from the three people who read this blog. What would I do without him?

Well, I'll tell you:

• I would show up on time: When invited to dinners, outings, special events, etc. Corey likes to look his best. That includes following a detailed regimen of changing clothes 4 times, leaving me in the car while he runs in and changes a 5th time, gelling his hair, re-gelling his hair, moving gelled pieces of hair around after they have dried, then posing in front of the mirror. This process begins 15-20 minutes before we have to be at our pre-arranged meeting place.
• I would live in a messy apartment: I am a slob by no means, however, I am too busy to clean up after myself. Corey is the sucker fish to my algae-filled tank. My last fork full of food is barely out of my mouth before he grabs my plate to put it in the dishwasher.
• I would be so bored: aside from traveling through all of New England on weekends, Corey has been one of the biggest supporters of my craft projects. From my horse butt earings to my paintings to my crazy ideas for children's books, he keeps me going!

93 days...

Nothing new to report. No nightmares. No adventures. Invitations going smoothly.


Corey has only suggested having them sent out to be printed twice.


The printer is not provoking me. We've spent some much needed time apart.

Despite my checklist's rude personal hygiene assumption last week, I have revisited my morning workout routine.

I make my bed now. And fold my clothes. I have time to do these things.

I've spent more time in the kitchen practicing putting ingredients together to produce something edible, thanks to my future mother-in-law's gentle urging.

How boring this must be for you to read about how things are finally going right.

Just hang on. Tonight I might throw my hands up in desperation and drag Corey to Vegas for a simple ceremony in one of 25 Elvis chapels. Or I could just go crazy. Either way, it will give me something to talk about in the morning.

94 days...

B-party continued:

So this is what I looked like,

this is what my sisters looked like (we didn't make the tired pregnant lady dress up),

this is what Jill looked like,

and this is what Monica and Amanda looked like.

And out we went.

And cheer I did. Although, I can't emphasise enough how hard it is to spell a-g-g-r-e-s-s-i-v-e when you have 15 people watching and waiting for that one perfect cheer.

I survived. I also made $35 and landed an appearance on a random stranger's facebook page.

95 days...

Ahhhh, yes. It's time for the bachelorette party post.

Can you tell I was a cheerleader? Do the two weeks of Jr. High cheerleading show in my spirit finger pose?

I think the lighting was bad for this picture, I can't possibly be that white...

The following is a brief synopsis of how the night unfolded:

While I planned to take a nap, my friends prepped Corey's apartment. After a minor forgotten key incident and three failed nap attempts I arrived to find neon swirlies and zig-zags pasted all over the walls.

The theme: 80s/Saved by the Bell. The attire: everything that was wrong with the 80's and my Kelly Kapowski cheerleader uniform, complete with "Cheer for a Buck" pin and foam, veiled tiara.

Why Saved by the Bell? Well, to put it simply, celebrating SBTB is akin to celebrating my own rise into teenagedom with a sense of familiarity and confidence. Those who came before me, Zack Morris, Kelly Kapowski, AC Slater, Jessie Spano, Lisa Turtle, Screech Powers, and Tori Scott (in the last season), paved the way for me and my generation to endure lost loves, broken Elvis statues, and caffeine pill addictions. They brought teenage angst out of the closet our parents would have preferred to keep it in and said, "We have raging hormones and we are not going to be ashamed!!"

That, and I still watch the show every morning while I get ready for work.

This face obviously screams "I am more than ok wearing this in public." So, why people kept asking if I was forced to be a wacky cheerleader, I have no idea.

Oliver loves cars

The wind in his ears, the smells on the street, the feel of freedom.

Oliver loves cars. He loves to be in cars, around cars, jumping up on cars, watching cars, etc. The poor guy also loves to chase cars. This nasty habit almost left him in a brass urn, to be scattered over his favorite swimming spots.

One fall afternoon, as we were in the yard raking leaves, Oliver spots a slow moving SUV turning onto our road. He sprints toward the car.

At this point I'm not sure if he even knew what he was going to do when he caught up. Will he jump up to the window to see who is in it? Or will he chase it?

He does both, simultaneously.

As he catches up to the car, he jumps head first into the rear passenger side door. This flips him over and spins him around, giving him a nice piece of road rash on his foot (which later required acupuncture. shrugs shoulders). Dazed, he limps toward me. I'm shrieking, of course.

It ended much better than it should have. No broken bones. Small boo-boo. The only negative outcome is that he is still fearless when it comes to these hairless people boxes.

97 days...

According to my wedding checklist, which I follow as if they were instructions to breathe, now is the time to "Start taking better care of yourself..."

ummm....what?

"...eat right, exercise..."

Ok, why?

"...so you look and feel great on your wedding day."

Alright checklist, now you've gone too far. I didn't say anything when you told me to get organized, like I couldn't figure that out for myself, and I held my tongue when you told me to get my bridesmaids measurements (don't you know ladies do not like to share this information?).

But to tell me that I am starting to look like one of those droopy old love seats you see sitting on the sidewalk outside a college apartment and that I'd better get in shape or I risk running off my fiance is just a little harsh, to say the least.

98 days...

Ok seriously. Why do these invitations need to be so complicated?

Why I thought a simple card with words on it wouldn't be enough, is beyond me. Why I needed to have little pockets to hold the RSVP and other junk, I will never know. I do know that if I hear one more time that I should have hired a company to do them for me I just might blow a gasket.

Here is list of things I don't need to hear for the next 98 days:
1. The invitation thing.
2. It looks like rain.
3. I hope you can fit into your dress after eating that sheet cake.
4. You're lucky Corey is so involved in the planning.
5. Is that a stain on your dress?
6. You should've eloped.
7. Could you do me a favor?
8. Why is your eye twitching?
9. Scotch really isn't a breakfast food.

That about covers it.

99 days...

Double digit days! We are on double digits!!

The paper chain I usually use to count down to Christmas is now only wrapped around my room once! (you'd be surprised how far 490 days worth of construction paper rings will go...halfway around the world, twice.)

To celebrate, I'm going to make a special meal:

Salad/Appetizer

99 spinach leaves with 99 carrot shavings

99 calorie balsamic vinaigrette

Entree

The breast of a chicken that was fed its favorite meal (creamed corn chowder) 99 times in its lifetime, stuffed with 99 pounds of cream cheese, wrapped in 99 pieces of bacon

Served with 99 florets of broccoli

Drink

99 year old Bordeaux

Dessert

Creme brulee with 99 blueberries on top

Following dessert: 99 showings of Maid in Manhatten, of course!!

100 days...

Right now I am choosing to ignore the, "What more could you want?" comment my dear, sweet fiance posted earlier because, of course, he meant, "what more could you want besides a beautiful and loving future wife, like my Stacie?" See, we can read each other. I know him like the sixth finger scar on the back of my hand.*

Similarly, he knows that when I say, "I'm having a bad day," what I really mean is, "find some way to get a huge, chewy brownie in my brownie hole within 45 minutes of right now or else I will turn into a tornado of hair and fingernails you don't want to cross."

That's a special connection.


*I'm pretty sure I did not have a sixth finger on the back of my hand that my parents secretly had removed when I was a baby. I just say that I did because it's much cooler than saying, "See this line on my hand? It's a line."

After 4 days and 3 nights of gambling, expensive dinners,(none of which I paid for) and a slew of other things I won't mention, I have finally made it back from Las Vegas in one piece. I reminded myself, again, that there's nothing like Vegas....Blackjack, Poker, Roulette, the Sportsbook, cocktails, pools, and beautiful weather. What more could you want??!! It's the most exciting place to go....for 3 nights that is. Any longer and you're miserable, trust me!

So now what...

Well, opening day at Saratoga is only 49 days away...that's always the highlight of our summer. Stacie has accepted this...I think! She refuses to go to Belmont though...I don't understand why, it's such a beautiful place!

What else.....oh yes, the wedding! Thats about 99 days away...maybe 100, something like that. Everythig is coming together very nice.

Tonight I'm taking Oliver on his walk through town...he'll do the usual...poke his head in Bailey's, Hattie's, chase ducks(which he can't catch because they fly, he doesn't understand that yet) and of course, try and get into the pond at Congress Park, which he can't do either, because I put a choke hold on him!

See you all in a few days!

101 days...

Not to be confused with 101 Dalmations, which was the theme of my kindergarten dance recital. Just another tidbit of information about me. You never know when you'll be quizzed on little known Stacie-facts, like:

What did Stacie collect as a child?

If you said empty toilet paper rolls, you are correct.


And for two points, why did she collect them?

To build a log cabin, of course.


On Stacie's 4th grade student council field trip, what did she call the Mayor of Long Beach, California to his face?

Mayor of Munchkin Land? Judges please.....that is correct!




Yes, I am stalling on the bachelorette party post. I don't have all the pictures in yet, but I'm also hesitant to post any more like this:

...or this:

102 days...

...and I am exhausted. My bridal shower was a huge success thanks to my best friend and bridesmaid, Jill. She put together the whole "Paint" themed party with help from my mom and sisters.

That girl put me to shame. Yeah, I can paint an overweight, butt-crack exposing Santa on a gourd, but I would never have thought to make flowers out of paint sample strips, or paint-yer-own-frame favors, or framed famous painters' love quotes! I'm a rookie, an executive assistant, a golfer's caddie!

Annnnnnd, I'm over it. Now back to the party:

My favorite of the three quotes:

To express the love of two lovers is by the marriage of two complementary colors.

Vincent Van Gogh

The food was delish and an A+ for presentation. Chicken salad on mini croissants with grapes, kiwi, strawberries and melon balls on kabobs, (slurp) yellow, red, orange, green, and white veggies on kabobs with a ranch dipping sauce, multi-colored strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate cupcakes, (slurrrrrp) coconut cake, brownies, sugar cookies, (ssssluuurrrrp) chocolate chip cookies...what is the best way to get drool out of a keyboard? Hypothetically, I mean.

The paint-yer-own-frames turned out great. See? Everyone is working so hard. No pictures of me working on my frame. I scrunch up my face in a way you would not know what exactly I'm concentrating on...no, I will NOT elaborate.

Marlo, Erin, Kathy and Pat

Betsy

...and then the crazies came out. That's not me second from the left. That girl is a....neighbor we see every now and then walking out to the mailbox in pajama pants and a band t-shirt.

Ok, but seriously,

Up next, stories of big hair, slouch socks, and Saved by the Bell trivia. This ain't yo mama's bachelorette party!

We are a family that shares

A Corey and Stacie Adventure

Corey and I have several little....adventures, and some are more....exciting than others. For example, a simple 8 minute drive to the zoo in West Palm Beach may find us 30 minutes later not speaking to each other with maps flying around the car. That one was fun.

Corey recently moved into what will be our marital lodgings. It is a spacious loft on the east side of Saratoga, however, vertical wall space is limited (random fact? no. please save all questions until the end). Wednesday night, as I'm driving down to see him, he makes a point to remind me that we agreed to not put anything on the walls until we both can decide what should go where.

"Of course, I wouldn't do anything while you are away," I say.

"Ok thanks," he responds.

I walk into the building 20 minutes later and I hear tap, tap, tap. I walk up the stairs to more tap, tap, taps. I walk in the door and he stands there grinning and says,

"How do you like this Barbaro picture right here?!"

you there, you have a question?.....no, it did NOT end well.

105 days (post script)

I just wanted to say, at the end of yesterday, there was an even bigger disparity between Corey's day in Vegas and my day in the real world.

Corey still did all the things I figured he would. (funny...or scary how well i know him)

Stacie, on the other hand:

1. her phone stopped working at 6:30 am
2. from 8:30 to 1:15 she was on the phone (office phone) with Verizon tech support
3. took a break from 11:00-11:20 to nap on bosses couch to relieve massive headache
4. woke up with lines on forehead
5. went to meeting with Congressman with lines on forehead.
6. spent 1 hour in Verizon getting replacement phone.
7. back at office reloading phone settings
8. went to the hospital for some cafeteria food with dad, only food consumed to this point (4pm) was a banana
9. home at 5pm
10. skewerd fruit kabobs, vege kabobs, and fingers (not part of the menu), baked cookies, weed whacked
11. picked up friends (that part wasn't horrible)

I would have enjoyed filing.

105 days...

....sigh. Corey is in Las Vegas. He and 7 other guys flew out yesterday for his bachelor party. I was informed that it is an unseasonably cool 91 degrees.


He was probably sleeping a good sleep in his three bedroom suite in Mandalay Bay after a night of buffet, gambling, and more buffet while I was swimming laps at the YMCA. He'll wake up in a few hours, spend some time at a pancake bar and I'll be on the phone with a cranky fool complaining about his light bill.


After that, maybe some golf, a few cocktails by the pool, more gambling, a burger buffet. Meanwhile, I will be filing.


Oh, but I'll have my fun (evil grin). I have already claimed the weekend as mine to dictate, just as I do for the entire month of July. Bonnie, add this to the list of things you did not know about me: I'm a Bridezilla! (ahhh hahahaha!!! lightningboltthundercrash)

Wedding Nightmare #2

You can stop scrolling now. You didn't miss Nightmare #1, it wasn't posted (it happened pre-blog). Brief synopsis of #1:

Ceremony was in the front area of my office, reception was in the 12 person maximum capacity "conference" room. People were arriving and I just was not ready. My hair was done, and my dress was on, but I still had centerpieces to assemble. And these people, they just SAT there, arms crossed, glaring at me as I frantically cut out and pasted together construction paper flowers. It was truly a stomach-in-throat moment.


On to Wedding Nightmare #2:


This time the ceremony was in my backyard. It was a gorgeous set up. We had pergolas with climbing ivy, a red velvet aisle runner and candles everywhere...for an afternoon wedding??


Anyway, guests were seated, I was dressed, everything seemed to be in order. That's when I realized...(extreme close up with scary violin screech) I forgot my veil!


I run up to the attic, which resembled the old, creaky attic in the 1995 movie Casper. (yes, Casper. gimme a break, i was in l-o-v-e with Devon Sawa.) I jump over an old dusty box and dig through bins of dusty clothes until I find the jewelry box holding my pearls (apparently, i'm no longer concerned about the veil at this point). As I'm fumbling with them the clasp FALLS OFF.


If there was theme music playing it would be a cross between the theme from Jaws and Mission Impossible. For some reason, the fate of this wedding depended on these pearls. But I digress.


I'm panicking. I take a gold twisty tie (like the kind you use to tie up your green beans or bread bag) and attach the clasp to the strand of pearls. That's when I wake up. There was no resolution!

Did I make it to the aisle on time?! Did my twisty tie contraption work?!? I have no idea!!

Now I am left to spend the day making lists...You know, to make sure I haven't forgotten everything?...Come on folks, you can't expect me to present the stories AND make the connections, too.

107 days...

Small revelation about myself: I was a band geek. Am, if you consider the countless hours still spent watching my old performance tapes...or if you consider the number of people in New York State who have seen my old performance tapes. You see, I grew up in northern Indiana. The only thing to do was play basketball, come up with funny name combinations for neighboring states (i.e. Michiana), or join a marching band.

Sure we spent a good chunk of our summers at band camp, and yes, we gave up Saturdays and Wednesday nights for rehearsals and performances. But, I would say four consecutive state finals trips, marching in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and marching in a Honolulu parade made it well worth the extra effort.

What else made it worth the effort? Sombreros and bumblebee socks, Father Abraham, what-happened-on-the-bus-last-night gossip, Chinese fire drills, and trombone dance routines. Say wha...? You'd have to be there. Or I can show you the tape!

This revelation comes as I anticipate the arrival of my very best, fellow band-geek friends for my bridal shower & bachelorette party.

Monica - 1st chair clarinet, the best in the biz. My roommate for two years in college.

Amanda - clarinet. We had our geek parties at her house. Movies, brownies, and juice boxes.

Jill - trombone. Co-creator of the trombone push-up. The other creator: yours truly.

Will we relive some of our favorite band memories? Probably. Will other shower attendees look at us like we're crazy? Yeah, most likely. Will we care? uhhhh....If we could walk around downtown Indianapolis in granny shoes, cumberbunds, and feathers on our heads do you think we'll really be bothered by a few blank stares??

Myspace

This disaster area is my craft table. (blurry picture brought to you by: me. standing on a wobbly chair. singeing my hair on the light bulb.) Also known as project central. It's a nice little setup; I have a TV off to the left and all of my supplies are within reach.

But now, it is my stress center. My constant reminder of unfinished invitations, baby shower planning, bridesmaid projects, good personal hygiene, etc.

You can almost smell the foul stench of misery. But I exaggerate.

Had a nice weekend; hit Sperry's and Hattie's Friday night, Saturday we picked out our wedding bands, and on Sunday we had a wonderful lunch with my parents at the Montcalm (if you havent been, its a great restaurant in Lake George; across from the Ralph Lauren Outlet) Oh....I went on a shopping spree at Brooks Brothers after lunch!

Wow, I just realized the wedding is only 109 days away....however, that means opening day at Saratoga is only 59 days away......which also means I depart for Las Vegas in 3 days!!

109 days...

The weekend is over. No exciting stories to tell. Corey and I picked out our wedding bands, we registered for a lamp, and he bought some pants.

Is this what married life is like?

Should I expect weekends full of plant shopping and doing dishes?

I hate doing dishes.

I never pair "mundane" and "Corey and Stacie" in the same phrase. Here’s a scenario of a typical C&S outing:

C&S take O for a walk through town. They stop for a nice lunch and are seated at an outside table. O lays down on the other side of the railing with his leash securely tied. C orders pasta, S orders pizza, O gets bread crusts. Dog #1 walks by, no reaction from O. Dog #2 walks by, O slightly agitated. Dog #3 walks by and stands with his owner, O now needs to be restrained.

Dog #3 starts to walk away, O decides to go with him. He breaks free of C, breaks free of collar, runs free through downtown Saratoga Springs. C runs after him, nine other people run after him, S stands at the table shrieking.

O is finally caught. S grabs C’s credit card, runs across the street to Dawgdom and buys the cheapest collar she can find. O now wears a rather feminine wide green collar with brown polka dots.